


The Mark

by morgana07



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Drunk Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Protective Sam Winchester, Schmoop, Sick Dean Winchester, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 15:23:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgana07/pseuds/morgana07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1-shot. Reeling from what he’d learned & what he allowed to happen, Dean talks his problems out with a very unlikely person only to wake up to find that he had to face his decisions with the one person that he dreaded telling the most: his brother. *Drunk/sick!Dean & worried/concerned!Sam* SPOILERS for 09x11-First Born!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mark

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Language as always. Maybe a tiny tissue warning.  
> Spoilers: Yes so if you haven’t seen the episode and don’t want spoiled then watch first.  
> Tags/Codas: Not sure if I’d call it a tag but it takes place after 09x11-First Born.  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. This is written for the enjoyment of the fans.  
> Author Note: I hope you enjoy this one. No, I don’t know where the opening scene came from. Blame the plot bunnies and look me up on Facebook under morgana07

**The Mark**

****

“So…let me see if I got this straight. In order to find this supposed all powerful weapon that can kill a Knight of Hell, which is so beyond my pay grade, you agreed to work with the King of Hell to go find it. Instead you find the father of murder when you stumble your still too cocky ass onto Cain, literally the man who invented murder when he killed his brother.

“Then, as if this story could get any weirder or more nuts, you find out that the blade will only work with the Mark of Cain so since Mr. I invented murder is retired he offers to pass the mark onto you since he feels you’re worthy of it. The goddamn first murderer says you’re worthy of the mark that meant he was a stone cold killer and you _accept_!

“You accept the Mark of Cain so you can wield this so-called mighty weapon that you don’t have yet, ignoring that the man warned you that it came with a heavy burden…did the term heavy burden not sink into that goddamn hard head of yours?”

“He had me at kill the bitch,” Dean Winchester lifted the bottle of beer to drain it, letting it dangle in between his fingers while trying to watch the figure stalking within a tight circle.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe that it’s possible for you to have gotten even more stupid, more impulsive, and more…like John than you were when I was alive! Ace! What the hell do you think is going to happen if you kill this so-call Knight? What’s the mark going to do to you or mean for you? What’s it going to mean to Sam?”

The mention of his brother made Dean’s already glassy eyes narrow as he aimed the bottle at the stalking figure. “It don’t mean shit to Sam because I’m not with my brother.”

“Yeah, that’s another one of your brilliant plans. Why don’t you call Sam to come get your drunk ass self instead of sitting on the ground talking to me? Me, who is dead by the way? You do realize you summoned a spirit, Ace?”

“Because who else is going to listen to me spill my guts about all the stupid crap I’ve done recently when I can’t call my little pain in the ass brother because I’m terrified if I do, and I do want to, that he’ll hang up because he’s pissed at me and I’ve done it to him before?” Dean returned, trying to open the last bottle of beer only to have it knocked out of his hand by some ghostly power. “You…you shouldn’t be able to do that, Caleb,” he muttered.

Caleb rolled his eyes as he stepped out of the circle. “Dude, you put one of the sigils upside down. You always did suck at those things, Dean.”

The former hunter stilled looked like he did the day Meg killed him to get to John Winchester. He and Dean were only a few years apart in age and had been the next thing to best friends. They’d hunted together, they’d chased women together, they’d gotten into trouble together and Caleb had helped his friend keep an eye on Sam while he was in college.

The bald hunter had seen his friend do some crazy things but never anything this crazy before and now that he could get closer he also didn’t like what he was seeing.

“Is killing this Abbadon chick worth the risk?” he asked as he sat down on the hard dirt ground of some back road in some little section of Kansas. “Dean, did you even ask about the risks or what the burden of that mark was?”

“She’s worse than Crowley and maybe even a step above Lucifer in the bad department so…yeah, I’ll take the risk,” Dean leaned his head back against the bumper of the Impala to stare into the stars. “The story was all wrong. We were taught to believe Cain killed Abel because he was God’s favorite but he was protecting his brother from Lucifer. He made a deal that sent Abel to Heaven and him to Hell but only if he killed his brother.

“Years ago that dick Michael told me that mine and Sam’s bloodline went back to Cain and Abel so now what the hell does that say about us?” the hunter closed his eyes when the stars began to spin and all the beer he’d been drinking since parting ways with Crowley threatened to come up. “I’ve spent my whole life protecting him. I’ve gone to Hell for him, I’ve fought to keep him from giving in and he beat back Lucifer for me so…”

Caleb was still stunned at all that his friends had gone through since he died but now he was worried. He knew how Dean carried his guilt and this whole Mark of Cain crap worried him since this was all supposed to be stuff of legend.

“Ace, you and the kid are not going to turn into Cain and Abel. You could no more kill Sam than he could kill you so just stop worrying about that. Worry about that demon finding the blade, killing this Knight chick and finding a way to get that damn mark off of you before it does do something to you,” reaching over to slap his friend’s face until his eyes opened he sighed. “You’re bombed, Winchester. Call the kid.”

Dean wished it was that simple but knew he’d made his bed when Sam let him walk away. “He’s better off without me,” he slurred his words while deciding to stand only to fall back to the ground. “I…miss him though, Caleb. I even miss the bitching he does over my mistakes but…I screwed up and if this mark does start messing with me then I want my Sammy far, far away from me.”

“What did you call him?” Caleb had perfect hearing even as a spirit but he wanted to see if he could get his friend to repeat something he’d only heard him say once before.

“My…huh,” Dean smirked, running a hand over his face to try to figure out where the wetness on his cheeks had come from. “It raining?”

“No, the stars are out. You’re crying, Ace,” Caleb laid a hand on the shaking shoulder. “I’ve only heard you call him that once and that was when you and John had a screaming match six months after the kid left for school.”

Deciding that he could put it off to being drunk Dean’s lips curved into a smile as he worked his phone out of his pocket to show his deceased friend a photo of his not-so little brother. “He’ll always be my Sammy, Caleb. It’s why I do everything that I do, the good, the bad and the stupid. It’s all for him but…I can’t let this crap hurt him again. I’ve hurt him and now I have to make it right.”

“And if I know Sam he’s probably saying the exact same thing to some extent,” the spirit of the hunter muttered, blinking at the photo. “What the hell did you feed him? The kid was tall the last time I seen him but damn…he’s a giant now.”

“Shut up,” Dean muttered while staring at his brother’s photo to touch the screen with a finger. “I call him almost every day but…I hang up. I can’t take the risk of what it would do if he hung up.”

“Shit, there were his exact words to me about you when he was in Stanford and I finally had enough of you killing yourself to send him money that I went to talk to Sam,” Caleb muttered, seeing so much of John in both of his sons that it was no wonder the boys butted heads so often. “I was like ‘Dude, call your damn brother’ and he gave me those damn sad eyes and said he’d dialed you a hundred times but always hung up because it would hurt too much if you hung up on him. Maybe it’s good that I’m dead and bald because the two of you would kill me or I’d pull my hair out. I’m surprised Singer wasn’t bald.”

Dean had blinked at hearing that but still shook his head, attempting to stand again and this time managed to stay on his feet even if it was only because he was holding onto the car. “I’m poison. I’ll call him to say goodbye before I face Abbadon but…whoa!”

“You are so not driving when you’re this drunk, Ace,” Caleb had grabbed his arm but didn’t have enough energy to keep his friend from falling, wincing. “Dean? You alive down there?”

“I release you or whatever the hell I need to say to get you to leave, Caleb,” Dean muttered, content with sleeping where he was since he didn’t feel like fighting the pain of his arm or his heart anymore that night. “Thanks for listening and for not saying anything…too bad. It helped. Now I think I’m going to…”

Kneeling down after his friend passed out, the spirit eyed the phone still in Dean’s hand before making a choice. “I might not be able to help you like I once could have but I can do something, Ace. You might just not like it when you wake up,” he smirked while moving a hand over the phone to figure out the texting features to send a brief but very direct message.

Groaning as his head pounded, his arm burned and his stomach didn’t know which way to go, Dean Winchester automatically went to move to throw an arm over his throbbing head only to feel strong fingers grip his wrist to hold it down on the soft…soft?

“Tell me again what the hell that thing is branded to my brother’s arm?”

“I can tell you what I think it is but then I would have to be wrong because that simply isn’t possible.”

“The damn text message I got that sent me driving forty miles into nowhere to find my brother passed out on the ground shouldn’t have been possible either but it was so tell me what you think that is, Cas.”

The voices were making his head ache and throb more but again when he went to move his arm it was held so he finally gave up and just tossed the over arm over his head with a low curse.

“I can heal him if he’s injured.”

“He’s not injured, except for that damn brand that you keep avoiding telling me what it is, he’s hungover because from the amount of beer bottles around the Impala I’d say he went through a good case of beer by himself.”

“I…I was not…by myself,” Dean finally had to speak up and then wished he could cut out his own tongue when it voice really made his head and stomach twist. “Caleb was there too.”

“Caleb, huh? Well, that explains the text but not why since I happen to know Caleb’s dead, Dean,” Sam Winchester remarked, pushing down the very real worry he’d had since he got the damn message the night before.

The younger Winchester had been roaming the bunker since he found it hard to sleep there now unless he crashed in his brother’s room. He’d been missing Dean more ever since he and Cas had their little talk but it was still hard for Sam to take the first step and possibly make his and Dean’s strained relationship worse.

He’d been playing with his phone when the text message came through and then all he could do was stare at it for a good five minutes. ‘ _Go get your goddamn stubborn pigheaded older brother, shrimp. He’s passed out in a field somewhere in Kansas. You used to love it when John’d send coordinates so here’s some for you. Oh, and tell him not to worry about banishing my ass. I’ll be gone as soon as this sends. C.’_

Sam only knew one person who had ever called him ‘shrimp’ and he’d only done it once because Dean had bloodied Caleb’s face so the message sent up Sam’s alarms but he’d gone and had found his brother still passed out surrounded by empty beer bottles with an interesting mark blood red on his arm.

He and Castiel had gotten Dean into bed and cleaned up while Sam sat the rest of the night with his restlessly twisting brother who still talked when he was drunk or upset.

It was when Castiel had seen the mark that Sam caught the look of shock on the Angel’s face and pounced on it while knowing his brother would be waking up just by the way his eyelashes were flickering.

“Why was Caleb around and why did he text me?” Sam asked, reaching for the trashcan even before Dean’s face paled and he rolled on instinct to the edge of the bed to puke. “Yep, you drink more than 12 and you’re sicker than a dog.”

“Should we do…something?” Castiel asked from where he stood slightly back from the bed watching the brothers.

“No, he’ll be fine after he throws up some more and we get some dry toast and clear soda down him,” Sam replied, holding the trashcan while rubbing his hand in circles over his brother’s back without being aware of it since that was what Dean would always do for him if he was sick.

Dean wasn’t sure how long he puked up his guts before it turned to dry heaves and he was finally able to collapse onto is back to pry his crusted eyes open to see he was in his room, on his bed with his brother sitting beside him. “S…Sammy?” he croaked, wondering if his voice sounded that bad or if it was just his ears.

“Can you sit up a little to sip this?” Sam held out a small glass of clear soda, reaching out with a strong arm to lift his groaning brother’s shoulders up off the bed enough to take a few sips. “If that stays down we’ll try the crackers.”

“How?” Dean groaned as his head pounded until it was laid back on the pillow and the light closest to them was shut off. “Thanks. Now can you turn off the hundred jackhammers in my skull?”

“Why would there be jackhammers inside Dean’s…oh, figure of speech like Sam saying he had a guinea pig when he meant himself,” Castiel nodded with a smile, happy that he figured that out but missing the sharp look Sam sent his way.

Dean might have the mother of all hangovers but he was still with it enough to catch that. “Huh? What’s he mean?” he asked, glancing down to see Sam’s fingers were on his wrist.

“Nothing, he didn’t mean anything,” Sam was quick to reply while shooting the Angel a dark look as he did not want his brother to learn yet what he’d let Castiel do. “Dean? What happened to you?” he asked, still worried about some of the things he’d heard his brother say while he was unconscious. “What…what is this on your arm?”

Seeing that his button down shirt had been removed there was no way that Sam and Castiel wouldn’t have seen the mark that looked like it had been branded onto his arm. “Oh…yeah, that,” he closed his eyes while trying to think of a reply but then felt Sam’s eyes on him and knew he couldn’t lie to his little brother again, not over this.

“Crowley came to me with this little idea to find a weapon that would kill Abbadon,” he began slowly, pushing himself up slowly until he was propped up enough that he could try the soda and crackers. “I want the bitch dead, he wants her dead so it seemed like a good plan since my leads to track down Gadreel went south.”

“You…you…I didn’t think there was a weapon to kill a Knight of Hell,” Sam had to bring his brain back from the fear of what his brother might have been led to do.

“Yeah, there is one,” Dean muttered, feeling his stomach pitch at the third cracker so he settled on the soda while catching the grim look on the Angel’s face. “Betcha Cas knows what it is.”

Castiel frowned. “There were rumors in Heaven but…the blade that the Archangels used to slay the other Knights but…”

“Huh, yeah well I guess that’s not the way it really went down,” Dean handed the empty glass back but stopped Sam from getting up to get more, turning his hand over to grip his brother’s in a way that he hadn’t done in a long time. “The Archangels didn’t slay the other Knights. Cain did. Just like Cain didn’t kill Abel because he was God’s favorite. He killed him to send him into Heaven after he made a deal with Lucifer to keep his brother from becoming another of Luci’s pets,” he reached up with his other hand to rub his face wearily. “Y’know, every damn thing I learn that puts a new spin on some old Bible story really reminds me why I think all of Heaven should have its doors boarded up and locked cause you guys lie as much as the other side.”

Sam was staring between brother and Angel, trying to make sense of that. “Wait, what? Cain…did what?” he blinked, shaking his head. “Dean, how do you know that?”

“He told me,” came the simple answer. “He told me that before he told me that even if we had the blade it wouldn’t work without the mark because the power of the blade came from the power inside the mark so then he gave me the mark on his arm so when I find the blade I’d have the power to kill the bitch,” Dean heard the soft oath from beside him as well as the very sharp inhale of breath from across the room. “My head is still pounding so try to keep any yelling low.”

Staring at his brother and wondering if perhaps he was still drunk, Sam was about to make some comment when he saw the look of shock and disbelief on Castiel’s face and felt his stomach sink. “You…Cain? The Cain? The first murderer in history? You saw him, talked to him and…oh, shit,” he whispered, turning to stare at the Angel. “That’s what this is. That’s where I’ve seen it before. In some old notes of Pastor Jim’s. This is…this is the Mark of Cain?”

“How did you get it?” Castiel demanded, voice dropping low as he stared at the brand that he’d known as soon as he’d seen it what it was. “That brand can’t be recreated. It was said that it can only be…no.”

Dean shifted his gaze to stare at the brand that still burned occasionally. “He said I was worthy to wear it. I guess he saw something in me that made him think we were kindred spirits or something. I was too busy fighting demons right then to remember his exact words but before he did the transfer he just made me promise to come when he called me so I could use the blade on him,” he winced as his head ached and he had to close his eyes to stop the room from spinning.

“Is this possible?” Sam was demanding, stunned and scared at the same time. “Could…what the hell can this thing do to him?”

“I…I do not know. Those were myths and stories beyond my station,” Castiel was just as shocked. “Dean, did he tell you what bearing this mark would mean?”

“Heavy burden, blah, blah, blah,” Dean yawned, shrugging. “Like I told him and Caleb he had me at it would let me kill the bitch.”

Sam was working on handling this shock when he was brought back to the other matter. “Caleb?” he repeated. “How?”

“I was drunk, frustrated and alone so I summoned the ghost of my former friend to spill my guts to and then just got lectured by him,” Dean told him, looking back at Sam. “I wanted to call you but…couldn’t. I accepted that I made my bed when I walked away and that you’re better off without me.”

“I let you go because I wanted to try to make this right on my own for once, not because you’re poison, Dean. You’re not poison. You’re my big brother and I still…” Sam paused to take a shaky breath. “I still look up to you. I stopped the trials for you, for us…it just hurt to think that you didn’t trust me again.”

Making himself sit up, Dean fought back a groan of pain in his head to reach up to grasp the back of Sam’s neck; an old time habit between them. “I never stopped trusting you, Sammy. I trusted you to do the trials and to stop them. What I did I did because I was scared to let you go, little brother. You are all that I have left to make fighting to save this damn world worth it.

“Without you I’d eat my gun within a day or run the Impala off a bridge,” he declared seriously, voice quiet but deep in the way it only went when Dean was dealing with emotions. “I would then and I would now. I went that route before and I swore never again.”

“Dean…” Sam’s voice caught in his throat, not sure what to say or do since he knew how Dean hated emotional scenes but as Castiel slipped out of the room to give them some privacy he tried to recover.

He had his memories of being soulless so he could still recall the secret trips he’d made to check in on his older brother that year and Sam remembered actually being concerned for Dean more than once but he’d honestly never thought his brother would consider…

Then Sam recalled his own attempts to do the same during the time his brother was trapped in Hell and how many times he’d considered it while Dean was missing and lost to Purgatory.

“Y’know, one of these days you’re going to have to let me go, Dean,” he murmured shakily, eyes burning as he fought not to let the tears fall. “You’re not invincible and neither am I. A bad hunt, a bad time to be somewhere if a nut decides to shoot the place up or old age…you’ll have to let me go one of those times.”

“Yeah, that’s what the rational part of me knows and says but the other part of me, the part that carried your chubby ass out of a burning house and then spent the next seventeen years raising, teaching, and loving like you were my own says that if I can’t keep you safe on a bad hunt or if I can’t put myself between you and some nut with a gun or I don’t die of old age before my pain in the ass little brother then even if I’m in a walker I’d find a gun and use it on myself,” Dean felt the tears in his eyes but ignored them to reach up with a shaking hand to wipe the ones away from Sam’s cheek. “Sue me for being protective.”

Sam wanted to stay angry or bitter but it was so hard after that confession that he slowly felt all the bitterness melting away as he closed his fingers gently over the brand on Dean’s arm, a little surprised to not feel heat or anything from it.

“Fine, but I get to feel the same way,” he countered, shaking his head before Dean could argue. “You told me that there was nothing you’d put above me well can’t I feel the same way for you?” he asked, eyes plaintive as he held his brother’s. “I’ll fight Heaven, Hell or whatever this mark may bring to keep you with me. Just promise me, Dean…please, don’t do anything stupid.”

“Is there something more stupid than getting in the face of Cain?” Dean returned with a raised eyebrow and then closed his eyes when he suddenly had an armful of little brother. “I’ll be alright, Sammy. I will be.”

“You better be or else the next person I summon won’t be Caleb but Bobby just to smack you in your head,” Sam told him, beginning to ease back only to feel Dean’s arms tighten the hug to hold it another few seconds longer. “I…missed you,” he whispered. “Feels so weird to sleep here without you being down the hall.”

“Well, since my hangover and I will probably be sleeping for the next twelve hours why don’t you go get some sleep before I decide to ask you what the hell you and Cas got up to that makes him think my little brother is anyone’s guinea pig,” Dean yawned, feeling Sam tense and knowing he’d be bitching at the Angel soon but right then he just felt like sleeping.

Sam still had his doubts about sleeping. He was still a little worried if he was fully healed and he also didn’t want to leave his brother this soon since he was now trying to avoid overthinking everything that could go wrong with this mark.

“Yeah, you try to sleep and when you wake up again you can eat some soup before trying anything solid,” Sam told him, sitting still until Dean slid down to roll more toward the edge of the bed…closest to the door. “I’ll go check on Cas and maybe try to see if the library has anything more on your new mark before…Dean?” he blinked when Dean’s fingers went tight on his wrist. “You need anything?”

“Besides knowing you’re asleep and not pacing the halls like you do when you’re trying not to sleep? No, not much, little brother,” Dean replied, opening one eye to tap the empty side of the large bed. “We both know you won’t sleep in your room yet, the chair in the corner isn’t fit to sit in much less sleep in and if I happened to wake up to find you sleeping on my floor I’d be pissed so do us both a favor and just park your Sasquatch size ass on that side of the bed.”

Sam tried to argue that he was fine and that he should be doing something when his damn tired eyes blinked a few too many times and he grumbled about being too old to share a bed with his brother.

“Fine, when the jackhammers are gone we’ll go back to two beds in a room since you haven’t been at ease sleeping in this place since we got our own rooms,” Dean told him, a fond smile on his face as he laid still to watch his grumbling brother slowly, reluctantly lay down on the open side of his bed but soon was laying toward him with his one arm outstretched like Sam always seemed to lay. “You going to show me what Caleb texted you?”

“Nah, you’d just bring him back long enough to banish him for calling me shrimp,” Sam mumbled, half asleep and dozing more even before a blanket was laid over him and a firm hand just touched his to let him know he wasn’t alone. “Dean? No stunts?”

“No stunts, Sammy,” Dean assured him, figuring he wasn’t lying to Sam since he didn’t plan on pulling anything crazy. He just couldn’t be sure what the other side of the coin might be up to. “G’night, little brother.”

“Night, Dean,” Sam murmured as he finally slept for the first time since coming back to the bunker.

Dean stayed awake for a few more moments to watch Sam and took his first good long look at his brother to notice the shadows under his eyes from not sleeping but was glad that he looked better than he had and hoped Castiel had healed him like he said he would.

“Now to just figure out what they’re not telling me,” he muttered, closing his eyes to fall back to sleep and let the rest of the hangover fade.

Outside the door, Castiel peeked in to see that both Winchesters had fallen to sleep finally and he wouldn’t disturb them as he knew the coming days wouldn’t be easy for either of them…especially now.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
